Routine
by Black Lightning Bulb
Summary: Ron has routine in his life, and only routine.


I wrote this when I realized that I have my own routine and how boring it was.

Disclaimer: I do not own HP

Routine

"Next." An impatient redheaded man said, tapping the tip of his quill against his desk. He had been doing this for a long time now. For two years now, every other month. Every year he would come in and help his Mum because she asked him to. Because every year she would always say, "It's so lonely here. With everything that happened, and... OH Ron your not eating enough! I can see your cheek bones!"

He sighed, and told another person what to bring after they told him their name. So for two years now, every other month, he would go down to Flourish and Blotts, buy two things of ink, a pack of quills, and a long roll of parchment. Then he would apparate to the his parents house. Then he would start writing down names of people who where willing to help. Help other people who where homeless because of the war, or didn't have jobs, or didn't have supplies, or just didn't have anything.

He wrote down another name, and told them to go over to Ginny's station. She wrote down names with a smile, chatting with people she knew and didn't know. She had always been optimistic. 'Unlike me.' He thought. He needed more optimism in his life. He needed someone to be optimistic for him.

Ever since everything had happened. Ever since he had agreed to go with Harry on that bloody excursion for those stupid horcruxes. He looked up at the non existant line and smiled. Job done. Now, just like every other month, he would walk into the kitchen where his mother would already have a heaping plate of food waiting for him. As ate Ginny would walk in, and they would talk for a while. Their wasn't much to talk about though. Every time they talked painful subjects came up.

Subjects such as the Burrow being burned down. Percy dying without reconciling with everyone, and vice versa. Harry going insane after beating Voldemort. Hermione. He shook his head snapping himself out of his gloomy revere. He shoveled some more food in his mouth, and pushed the plate in front him. He got up, taking his jacket from the back of his chair. "Thanks for the grub Mum."

"Are you staying? I was hoping you would stay and we could-"

"Sorry Mum can't." He looked at his Mum's expression; a look of regret, sadness, worry, anger. He never understood how his Mum could always do that, pack so many emotions into one expression. "I've got work tomorrow." He gave her a hug, and a peck on the cheek.

She smiled and waved as he walked out the door, calling out, "Don't forget to eat a proper meal alright!"

"Got it Mum!" He called back, before apparating back to his small apartment. It wasn't lived in. He tried to stay away from it. He didn't even have a proper bed, he just slept on the couch. The only thing that showed that someone lived in here at all were a few pictures scattered around. He picked one of the smaller frame pictures up and looked at it as he did every night. As he did every night he looked at it for a second, and immediately turned it over and placed it down on the table so he couldn't see the smiling faces of his two best friends.

He sat down on the couch, putting his head in his hands. "Hermione." He had been doing this often lately. Staring into space, or just thinking to much. Every time he did either of these things though, it was always about her. Hermione Granger. The girl who in his first year at Hogwarts had been someone he hadn't liked to much until a few weeks before the whole ordeal with the Sorcerer's Stone. In his fourth year he had realized she was a girl. In his sixth year he had grown quite fond of. Then everything had been torn from him in one night. The night Harry beat Voldemort. He hadn't just lost his best friend to insanity. He had lost the love of his life.

Maybe he had realized it too late. Sure he knew he loved her, but not that he was the only person for him. He had realized it right when she had dived in front of that bright green light. As he held her limp body and cried. Maybe that was what had driven Harry to insanity. Seeing him break down, seeing Hermione dead.

It didn't matter now though. He had a routine. It was unbreakable. It didn't involve love, or much of a social life even. He would wake up guiltily turn the picture over and stand it up right. Change, go to a pointless job, come home, maybe eat, most of the time he would just sleep. It was only interrupted by those annual visits to his parent's house, and even those visits had a routine. They where also interrupted when he went to see Harry at St. Mungo's, those visits had a routine. When he went to Hermione's grave, and those had a routine also.

Routine was the only thing that stabilized him. Routine was the only thing he could fall back on. Routine was the only thing he needed in his life. Routine was the only thing he wanted in his life. Routine was the only good thing in his life. Routine.

What did you think? Did you like it? Review please! I wrote this when I was listening to a song from Rent, the one where their talking about living in America. If you've seen the movie, or the play, and have heard the song you'll know what I'm talking about.

Hope you enjoyed!


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